


Something Good

by vol_ctrl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beelzebub Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Christmas Eve, Christmas Presents, Criminal Profiler Beelzebub, Cunnilingus, Floor Sex, Gabriel Has a Penis (Good Omens), Gabriel is a Psychopath, Handcuffs, Hate Sex, He/Him Pronouns for Gabriel, Love/Hate, M/M, Other, Romantic Gestures, Serial Killer Gabriel, The Sound of Music References, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21851623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vol_ctrl/pseuds/vol_ctrl
Summary: Detective B. L. Zebub has an unexpected late night visit from the very killer they have been profiling. It's not the first time and, given Gabriel's affection, unlikely to be the last.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52
Collections: O Lord Heal This Gift Exchange





	Something Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Black_Fig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Fig/gifts).



> I was surprised to discover that there are other serial killer Gabriel AU fics out there! I thought I was the only one with that crazy idea. This fic was written for a prompt by **Fig** over on O Lord Heal This Server for the holiday stocking exchange! It was really fun to actually write a little one-shot for this idea.

_“Perhaps I had a wicked childhood… Perhaps I had a miserable youth...”_

B. L. Zebub woke with a start. Their eyes flew open and stared up at the streetlight patterns cast through their window at the ceiling. Working as a profiler for the city’s police department meant long nights--working on the case of one Gabriel Arch, _the Archangel Gabriel,_ in his own twisted mind, meant waking up in a cold sweat.

_“But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past… There must have been a moment of truth…”_

B heard a swell of music drifting through their bedroom door and felt nauseated by the pounding of their heart so rapid upon waking, the dull ache of their sleep-fogged brain, and their dry throat. Someone was in their flat. The intruder made no attempt to hide their presence.

B had no family to speak of, no friends who would come by on a lark in the middle of the night and play sappy musical numbers. Their only company was their work, and even their colleagues gave them a wide berth. They weren’t exactly known for their glowing personality.

B had a sinking suspicion who they would find singing strains from The Sound of Music in their living room. They fumbled at the bedside table for a pack of cigarettes, but instead upset the over-full ashtray there and cursed. They sat up sharply and shook ash from their tangled black hair and off their hands. Willing their hands to still, they lit a cigarette.

Well, they couldn’t just _ignore_ this intruder. B didn’t pack heat as part of their uniform, but they weren’t stupid enough to not keep a gun close at hand. Feeling the cool metal of the gun from under their pillow should have steeled their nerves. It didn’t help much.

_“For here you are, standing there, loving me…”_

B pushed open the creaky door with their foot, holding the gun as steady as they could, braced with both hands. The fresh burst of nicotine rushing through their veins helped steady their hands. 

_“Whether or not you should…”_

There he was, standing there. Gabriel Arch. Their primary case file. B could see him easily by the light of a few lamps and the glow of candlelight from the table. It was arguably meant to be a dining room table, but B had never used it as such. When they had finally dragged themself to bed, it had been littered with files and papers. Now, it was dressed in a fine tablecloth, set for a dinner for two--romantic, no less, with candles and wine glasses.

Gabriel looked all the part of a handsome dinner date. He wore a perfectly tailored suit of soft dove-gray with a tie of a rather soothing shade of lavender. His hair was perfectly coiffed, not a strand out of place, and he looked as if he had been expecting--no, waiting for B to join him.

_“So somewhere in my youth or childhood… I must’ve done something good,”_ he sang along, slow and tender.

B lowered the gun suddenly and ripped their cigarette from between their lips. “Jesus, Gabriel. What the fuck is all this?”

“I do apologize for the late hour. Only I wanted to surprise you, and I know you work such long hours, even during the holidays.”

“Especially during the holidays,” B snapped. Whatever it was that Gabriel had prepared for dinner, it smelled fucking delicious. B couldn’t stop their mouth from watering. Wasn’t often they had anything nicer than a cold sandwich or a cup of instant ramen.

Gabriel pulled out one of the chairs and gestured for B to sit. “Consider this part of your Christmas present,” he said sweetly.

“Christmas present?” B muttered. “Fuck, it’s Christmas Eve already, isn’t it?” They scratched at their weary brow with the butt of their gun.

“I knew you’d forget. Always so busy. Come sit.”

B didn’t move. “Should I get dressed?” Currently, they were wearing only the dress shirt from the day before, rumpled and half unbuttoned, tails draping halfway to their knees.

“No need,” Gabriel said, eyes glittering. “I love getting you out of bed. You look so… raw.”

B steeled themself against the shiver that ran up their spine. Gabriel had this raw magnetism, absolutely in line with B’s profile of the serial killer still on the loose. His MO was a sick, but methodical torture: a ritualistic baptism that ended in axphysiation. His victims were all criminals, usually from the top of the most wanted list. Gabriel had a better track record than most of vice and homicide combined.

Gabriel had seen right through them. Almost from the start.

The look of hunger in the killer’s eyes was unmistakable as B walked forward. They put their gun down on the table noisily, near enough to Gabriel to be seen as a threat, and they shot him a warning look, even as they allowed him to push in their chair. Before they could put out their cigarette on the tablecloth, damn their own table underneath it, Gabriel produced an ashtray with a smile. B watched Gabriel with narrowed eyes as the intruder turned and went into the kitchen to fetch dinner.

Gabriel had never asked them for anything--at least, nothing to do with his case. B often threatened to turn him in, but Gabriel would just laugh and remind them of all the _good_ he was doing for the city. There was a monster lurking under that handsome veneer. B sometimes wondered if they were under that monster’s spell. It was a more comforting thought than admitting the monster inside themself.

“I don’t need to add ‘cannibalistic tendencies’ to your file, do I?” B asked as Gabriel delivered a handsome steak dinner before them.

Gabriel laughed. “I do not sully the temple of my body with the gross matter of sinners,” he reassured the profiler.

B pinned Gabriel with a look as the killer sat across from them. What a fucked up little Christmas Eve this was. Killer and his profiler, sitting down for a nice romantic dinner. Gabriel picked up the bottle of wine and gestured for B’s glass. They handed it over with a frown.

“I know you’re not one for candle-lit dinners,” Gabriel said as he poured the wine. “Married to your work, as you are.” His smile carried devious into his eyes, the implication obvious. B had a strong revulsion to the idea that he was married to Gabriel vis-a-vis their work, but their body betrayed them with heat that flooded their cheeks. “This is mostly for me. You’ll appreciate the rest of your Christmas presents far more.”

“The rest?” B asked, brow tense as they accepted their wine glass.

“Oh, yes. You’ll be quite busy come tomorrow.” Gabriel calmly poured himself some wine.

B’s breath caught in their throat.

“But tonight, let’s celebrate. Merry Christmas.” Gabriel lifted his glass in a toast.

B’s stomach churned, knowing that somewhere out in the city lay a body with a ceremonial white cloth over their tortured face, soaked through with supposed holy water, waiting to be discovered. To make matters worse, they were _excited_ by the prospect. Which horrible criminal had Gabriel knocked off their list? What else would they learn from Gabriel’s latest crime scene? It was no fun at all if B couldn’t actually convict Gabriel--and the self-proclaimed Messenger of God was impeccable at leaving a pristine crime scene.

_Fun._ They had always had a fucked up idea of _fun._ That was one thing they had in common with Gabriel.

“You’re so tense,” Gabriel murmured sympathetically. 

Dinner had been had with little conversation. It was unnerving the way Gabriel liked to watch them eat, but the gun just beside their formal setting gave them some semblance of ease.

Now the killer had his hands on their neck, under the loose collar, massaging the tight muscles. Hands that so easily killed. It wasn’t the first time.

“Your fault,” B muttered.

Gabriel’s hands didn’t feel like the hands of a killer as they ran delicately up the cords of their neck, then over their shoulders. B closed their eyes as they felt Gabriel lean closer from behind, fingers trailing down their arms.

“Let me make it up to you,” he husked in their ear. Suddenly, B felt something cold and metallic against their wrist. Their fingers twitched and their eyes flew open as they heard the ratchet of a handcuff cinch around one wrist, the other trapped in Gabriel’s bruising grip. Their arms were wrenched behind the chair and Gabriel snapped the other cuff around their wrist, trapping them on the chair.

“Let me go,” B growled and wrestled against the cuffs. The metal rattled as they struggled.

Gabriel straightened and grabbed the back of the chair, dragging B aside from the table to face him. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised sweetly. “You’re doing God’s work. Just like I am.”

B felt panic creeping up in their chest, but it was mixed into a sickening cocktail of anticipation as Gabriel knelt before them. They could have kicked him, wrestled themself free from the chair, but instead their breath only hitched as Gabriel’s hands smoothed over their bare thighs.

“Only you’re in such a hurry. Always in a hurry, always busy. I want to give you the gift of patience. Even if by force.” Gabriel’s smile sent a sinful heat pooling between their legs. He pulled their hips forward on the chair, causing their shirt to hike up.

“You’re not even wearing anything underneath,” Gabriel realized with a look of glee as his prize lay before him, a dark thatch of hair and the only soft, shy thing about B, those tempting pink folds.

B bit their lip, stubborn to stay silent as Gabriel had his dessert between their legs. Their muscles trembled from the effort, but it was stupid to think they could resist that clever mouth. His silver tongue worked just as well on their sex as it did on their ears.

“Uncuff me!” B begged even as their body greedily demanded more. Their breath grew ragged as Gabriel ravished their cunt.

Gabriel slowly lifted from B’s sex and ran a hand up their exposed neck, stroking their flush cheek. “They’re not real handcuffs, Bee,” he chuckled. “You would break free if you really tried.” He claimed the profiler’s mouth with his own, capturing their startled gasp. “You enjoy being at my mercy,” he teased against their ear.

B gathered their wits, driven by the adrenaline of having that killer’s teasing baritone pumped directly into their brain, and struggled. They wrenched their arms apart until the metal of one cuff suddenly snapped free, and grabbed Gabriel by his lapels. B wrestled him to the ground on his back, panting and livid.

Gabriel’s composure remained, even with his suit now twisted and rumpled. B stared down at him, wild-eyed and _wanting._ Relationships were complicated--but sex wasn’t. Gabriel was just as dead inside as they were. He dressed his motives in religious platitudes and claimed the moral high ground, but no one with a soul could kill as ruthlessly as he did.

B crushed Gabriel’s lips with their own, driven by lust and a carnal desperation. They tore at his clothes until they had his cock free, and plunged onto it so swiftly it made them whimper. It ached, being stretched and filled so full, but it was the kind of pain they wanted. 

This wasn’t love--it was a function of mutual desire. Gabriel looked inside B and saw something familiar, a void where empathy and concern for anyone but themself should have been. B knew Gabriel better than anyone they had ever known in their life. They had profiled him, picked apart his brain in the clinical way that made every normal person around them so difficult to understand.

B rode Gabriel at a punishing pace, too hard, too deep. The killers hands raked down their back, bruised their hips. B finally heard Gabriel coming undone, making so much unholy noise as he drove his hips sharply in concert with theirs. The killer’s hands stilled their hips with unforgiving strength, and he pistoned into them until they saw stars and let out a strangled cry. Even as they came, he kept fucking them, their sharp moans pleading wordlessly for more.

B felt like they were going to be sick when Gabriel came inside them. Not for the feeling of being violated, but for how much they _craved_ his despicable pleasure. They reveled in the thought of having a bit of Gabriel inside them, a dirty little secret to keep.

“Merry Christmas, Mx. Zebub,” Gabriel whispered as he lifted a hand to stroke their cheek.

B shoved his hand away. “Get out of my flat.”

Gabriel tutted. “There’s no need to be rude.” He sat up and began straightening his tie. “You’re the one who wanted me so badly you had to take me on the floor.”

B shoved themself off Gabriel, feeling shaky and dazed in the wake of the orgasm that still ached between their legs.

Gabriel tidied himself up, got to his feet to fix his shirt and trousers. “We’re a lot a like, you and I. That’s why I like you, Bee.”

B said nothing as the killer bent to kiss the top of their head.

“You should really get a better lock on your door. You know as well as I do… there are a lot of dangerous criminals out there.”

“Shut it,” B snapped.

“I hope you like the present I left for you. I wonder how long it will take the police to find it. Not too long, I imagine. There will be a lot of people passing by the fountain in Regent Park, even on Christmas Day.”

B looked up at Gabriel sharply. The killer had never given them any tips before.

“Enjoy your holiday.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what you see here, come follow me on Twitter [@vol_ctrl](twitter.com/vol_ctrl) for updates on my latest fics!


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